Baltimore Evening Sun (28 July 1913): 6.


Advice to the new pastor of the Seventh Baptist Church: Be very polite to a tall and handsome man with xanthous chin-lashes, answering to the name of Sam.—Adv.

Liberty is not a means to a higher political end. It is itself the highest political end.—Lord Acton.

The joys of life under prohibition, as described by a headline in the Augusta (Maine) Journal of July 21:


From the Biddeford Journal of July 21:


Deputies Get 63 Half Pints Of Whiskey On First Visit And 2 Quarts On Next.

From the Portland Express of July 10:


From the Waterville Sentinel of July 22:


From the Bangor Commercial of July 14:


From the Portland Argus of July 21:


Root Beer On Top Of Strong Liquors. A New Scheme To Evade Law Discovered. Will Soon Be Nothing But Airships Left.

From the same newspaper of the day following:


Is Now Being Dispensed At Local Places With Elabo- rate Scheme To Defraud. A New Kind Of Stuff Was Captured Yes- terday.

And so on and so on. I could fill columns with such headlines from all the newspapers of Maine. Egged on by fanatics, Governor Haines has appointed special sheriffs to enforce the unenforceable prohibition laws. The result is a State-wide debauch of raids and seizures. Volunteer snoutors aid the officers by spying and tattling. Houses by the hundred are being searched and raided. All automobiles entering the State are stopped and investigated. In some places along the coast the deputy sheriffs are actually digging up the beach in search of contraband jugs.

But is Maine going dry? Not on your life! Boozy old Maine was never more wet. To every deputy sheriff trying to enforce the law there are 100 citizens trying to outwit him. The thing has become a universal sport, in which men, women and children join. No Maine man feels that he has proved his manhood until he has smuggled at least one jug into his house. The one visible effect of the raiding, in brief, is a wholesale eagerness to break the law. The streets of Portland and Bangor are filled with drunks. The whole State goes rum-crazy.

The Hon. Charles J. Ogle, in the midst of a long answer to my sagacious and devastating criticism of the initiative and referendum:

His impressive appeal to [the Hon.] Mr. Aristotle rather loses force when it is recalled that Aristotle also very clearly proved that slavery was absolutely indispensable to civilization.

Well, doesn’t his proof still hold? Isn’t it a plain fact that civilization would be impossible without the practical enslavement of the lower orders, who would resolutely refuse to do any useful work if it were not compulsory? What difference does it make whether such persons are slaves by written law or merely slaves by unwritten law? What is the essential difference, for example, between the slaves who formerly worked in the Southern cotton fields and the slaves who now work in the Southern cotton mills?

The Hon. Mr. Ogle, I take it, will not presume to deny that the latter workers are actually slaves. His whole life, in fact, is devoted to a mad effort to strike off their shackles. He wants to rescue them from slavery and turn them into statesmen. He wants to save them from the inevitable consequences of their natural inferiority and put them on terms of artificial equality with their betters. This enterprise does great credit to his heart, but is less flattering, I am led to opine, to his powers of ratiocination. It shows him to be a man who is misled by the mere sough and swish of words. IT shows him to be one who believes that it is possible to change the nature of a thing by the simple process of changing its name.

But of all this, more anon. I have more than 800 separate and distinct arguments against the initiative and referendum—arguments penetrating and profound, pious and immoral, historical and theological, overpowering and unanswerable. And fully 85 per cent. of them also apply to the recall of judges, the direct primary, the single tax, Christian Science, the vice crusade, Spiritualism, prohibition and all other such sure cures for the sorrows of the world. These answers I hope to present seriatim, beginning in a week or two and running on to the year 1920. Meanwhile, let me assure the Hon. Mr. Ogle of my distinguished consideration. The body politic is not a fair young Adonis, but a gnarled old carcass, full of sins, years and arterio-sclerosis. The pills he feeds to it will do it no harm; the unguents he smears upon it will not kill it. But neither will these things take off its warts.

Think of Jacobus taking his ease in the Lowenbräuhauptausschank, while we poor devils are being snouted and raided at Back River! What becomes of the moral order of the world?—Adv.

Boil your drinking water! Down with Lankford! Hang Joe Goeller on a sour-apple tree! Swat the fly!